Scenario: you and Hoseok were crazy in love, when one day you fell pregnant and Hoseok wasnât ready for that sort of commitment in his life. Six years later when your daughter wanted to see her father in person, you came face to face with the man you hadnât spoken to in six years.
He planted a chaste kiss on your soft lips. His lips and yours molded perfectly together, like you two were made to be together. âHoseokâŚâ, You whispered into his ear as he left butterfly kisses down your neck. âI love you so much, donât stopâ, you whispered again. He smiled and looked up at you as he was now at your stomach, on his knees.
âThis is all for you y/n.â His husky voice echoed through he room and that was enough to send you over the edge right then and there.
âThe bedroomâŚâ, you sighed, pulling his hair lightly. He carried you into your room bridal style and closed the door behind him.
You both lay breathless on the bed, completely naked and trying to recover from your recent highs. You dragged a sheet over yourself as goosebumps arose on the surface of your skin. Hoseok giggled at your action. âCold?â He asked. You nodded and the corners of your lips turned up in a smile. Hoseok pulled on his boxers before heading down the hallway to turn on the heating. You sighed, of all the times you and your boyfriend had sex, it was never as intimate as this time. It was different this time around, the closeness, passion, warmth and care you showed each other was beautiful. You didnât want it to end.
You felt a pair of arms hug around your waist and pull you into his hold. âI love you, y/nâ, he spoke against your shoulder. Lying in this position was pure bliss and you felt your eyes getting heavier as you drifted off into a calming sleep.
You blinked, screaming daylight pouring through your bedroom window. You squinted and rubbed your eyes. You looked beside you to see the other side of the bed empty and a note rested on the pillow. You picked it up and read the piece of folded paper.
You looked so peaceful, I couldnât wake you. I made you some breakfast, itâs in the fridge!
Hobie xxx
You smiled and put on your underwear and a loose sweater to eat the breakfast that your boyfriend had kindly made you. Pancakes! You loved pancakes, they were your favourite⌠with some bacon? Interesting combination, you thought. Nevertheless, you ate it.
A few days passed since Hoseok had come round to to see you and he was now back at the studio practicing like all the other members. You felt really thankful that on his one day off he came to see you since he missed his family a lot.
It was 10 am and you were stood gawking at the empty containments of your fridge, your belly rumbling and begging for some food. Grocery shopping time it is, you thought.
You didnât work much, you did a few charity events here and there since you made hats and scarves and decided it would be a wonderful idea to sell your creations. Winter was your busiest time because there would be loads of winter festivals to sell your hats and scarves at, you were pretty proud of the little mini âbusinessâ you set up for yourself. Your studio apartment was all you needed for yourself at the moment because you studied art and design at university⌠you didnât really want to live on campus with anyone else. You hated the ruckus, plus Hoseokâs secret dating you would have been found out in the speed of a second, so living on your own didnât bother you.
It was handy having a grocery shop opposite the road from you, in fact, you had a shop convenient for everything across the road from you, so you hardly went into the city square unless you need clothes or something. There was a hairdressers, grocery store, convenience store and a florist. You threw on your woolly hat and some ankle boots to pop to the grocery store.
Vegetables, you thought. Definitely fruits and vegetables. You hadnât eaten that healthy lately since you got home from uni pretty late at night from taking extra classes for extra credit. It was your last year and you need to graduate with that diploma you so desperately wanted. So keeping healthy and energetic was key.
You searched the aisles and picked up some bananas, grapes and oranges for general snacking, with also some herbs and meat for cooking dinner with in the evening. But thereâs one thing you really needed to make a dish with that you loved⌠Onions!
You made you way to the vegetable aisle and searched for the onions. âIâll pick up some carrots and peas for other dinners⌠that should be fineâ you mumbled to yourself. âWhere are they? Aha!â You picked up a few onions to put into the plastic bag the shop provided, but as you move the onions closer to your nose, your stomach rumbled an awful, sickening noise⌠and not because you were hungry! Your face became a pasty white and you think you were going to be⌠âIâm gonna be sick.â You quickly dropped your shopping basket and rushed to the back of the store where you ran into the staff toilet. You were vomiting up last nights food and you coughed to get the worst of it out of your system. Tears formed in your eyes with how much you were straining your neck.
âMiss?â The store owner knocked on the door.
âMiss are you alright?â He knocked again.
Thank god your hair was tied up. You wiped your mouth with some toilet paper and flushed the toilet and itâs horrible containments. âYeah, Iâm fine, thanks.â You opened the door to see people concerned and you felt awfully embarrassed.
Not the flu⌠please not the flu. Or could it be- nooo. You panicked. After paying for your groceries, you ran to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. Surely you canât be pregnant, you guys did use protection after all.
Positive
Your eyes widened and then frowned at the stick. âYeah rightâ. That was impossible, you tapped it again and nothing seemed to shift or change. You took two more tests and they also read positive. Shit! You were pregnant. You sat on the edge of the bathtub and rested your head in your hands. A baby? You thought it was way too early and unplanned for this to happen now, but it was with the man you truly love. You hadnât always agreed on abortion so you thought that wouldnât be an option.
You decided to tell Hoseok that evening over a romantic dinner. You think heâll somewhat be excited⌠because a part of you was as well.
âWoah! Y/n this looks delicious, did it takes ages to cook?â He kissed your cheek and sat down at the table. âIt took me two attempts to make so I hope it tastes good!â You laughed setting the tow plates down on the table. Jasmine scented candles were scattered around the room and on the table, flickering between the two of you. A tender piece of meat glistened on the plates that accompanied roast potatoes and grilled asparagus. You were really proud of it!
âAh, Iâm so full!â You patted your belly.
âMe too, thanks so much it was really good! Just what I need after a long day at the studio.â He pulled a silly face and you giggled.
Okay⌠this was it, this was the moment.
âHobie, I have something to tell you.â
He looked at you, his face to one side, curious as to what you needed to tell him.
âIâm ââ
Mwahahhaa! This is the first part of âLost loveâ and I hope you enjoyed it! Iâll be uploading chapter two very soon.
Summary: What starts as lingering glances and offhand touches turns into something neither of you can ignore. You're not supposed to fall for someone on tour, especially not him. But between stolen moments and rising tension, it's only a matter of time before everything changes.
Word Count: 13.1k
Part 2 Part 3
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The room stills as Hoseok walks in, his confident aura palpable. His easy smile and effortless cool seem to draw the air toward him, like gravity bending to his presence. Itâs always fascinating to see the way he commands a room without saying a single word. Your breath catches, despite having rehearsed with him and the rest of the dancers for weeks now. That spark of awe hasnât dimmed. If anything, it's grown, fueled by the moments heâs given you. The encouraging nods, and the praise he doesnât usually offer lightly.
Hoseokâs gaze sweeps over the group, and when it lands on you, his grin widens just slightly. âAlright, team. Letâs go hard today. I want the energy up, no holding back,â he says, his voice warm but firm.Â
The room bursts into motion, everyone eager to match the energy Hoseok expects. The rehearsal is grueling but electric, every step and every movement carrying weight and purpose. You throw yourself into the choreography, pushing your limits, aware of Hoseokâs eyes occasionally flicking in your direction. The senior dancers seem to notice too, their expressions tight, their movements sharper than usual as if theyâre trying to outshine you. Good luck.Â
The tension lingers in the air, but you keep your focus. Youâve worked too hard to let their jealousy rattle you now. Every move, every count, is an opportunity to prove yourself, and to everyone else, why you belong here.
By the time Hoseok claps his hands, signaling the end of the rehearsal, your muscles ache, and sweat clings to your skin. âGood work today, everyone,â he says, his voice carrying genuine approval for once. âLetâs keep building on this energy. Get some rest and stay hydrated. We are just a few weeks out now.â
The team disperses, some dancers chatting in low voices while others grab their bags and file out. You linger to stretch, avoiding the sideways glances from the senior dancers as they leave in a cluster. Their whispers trail behind them, but you block it out, focusing instead on your breathing as you pack your things.Â
Feeling the need to clear your head, you wander into an empty practice room down the hall. The space is quiet, the mirrors reflecting the stillness. You drop your bag by the wall and start running through a few sections of the choreography on your own. The rhythm grounds you, each movement a reminder of why youâre here.Â
âStill working?â
The familiar voice makes you freeze mid-step. You turn to see Hoseok leaning in the doorway, his expression soft but unreadable. He steps inside, letting the door close behind him.Â
âI wasnât expecting anyone else to be here,â you admit, your voice a little shy.Â
âI could say the same to you,â he replies with a faint smile. âYou already gave everything in rehearsal. Whatâs keeping you here?â
You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lips. âI guessâŚI just needed a minute to breathe. To clear my head.â
Hoseok crosses the room, his movements unhurried. âI noticed the way some of them were acting today,â he says, cutting straight to the heart of it. âI wanted to check in with you after rehearsal, but I didnât want to bring it up in front of everyone.â
Your chest tightens, embarrassment and frustration swirling together. The things you overheard earlier reply in your mind, stinging like fresh wounds. Youâd walked into the changing room mid-whisper, and though they stopped when they saw you, the smirks and knowing looks said it all. The other dancers' whispers were sharp, accusing you of things so far from the truth they almost felt laughableâif it didnât hurt so much. They assume youâve slept with someone, blackmailed staff, or even bribed Hoseok to get the opportunities youâve earned. None of it is true. You pour everything into this, long nights perfecting choreography, pushing through exhaustion, and showing up with relentless determination. All you want is to be accepted and appreciated. But it doesnât matter to them. They refuse to see your effort, dismissing it all as underserved favoritism. Now standing in front of Hoseok, the weight of those baseless accusations feels heavier, but the steady warmth in his gaze offers a sliver of relief. Without needing to hear the details, he seems to know exactly whatâs on your mind, and the sincerity in his presence alone reminds you why youâve fought so hard to be here.Â
âIâm fine. Really,â you say quickly.
Hoseokâs eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to gauge how much of that âfineâ is genuine. His expression softens, and he steps closer, his tone careful but firm. âYou donât have to say that. I know what itâs like being in the spotlight, having people assume the worst just because they donât know your story or donât want to see your talent for what it is. Itâs not fair, and itâs not right.â
Your throat tightens, the effort to hold back the emotions youâve been bottling up threatening to break. You nod, lowering your gaze to the floor. âIâve worked so hard, Hoseok,â you admit quietly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. âEvery single thing Iâve gotten, I earned. But no matter how hard I push myself, they donât see that. They donât want to see it.â
He exhales softly, a look of understanding crossing his face. âTheyâre threatened,â he says simply. âBy your talent, your energy, and the way you carry yourself. Thatâs not on you, thatâs on them.â His voice drops slightly, more serious now. âBut I need you to promise me something: donât let their insecurities dim your light. Youâre here because you deserve to be here. Nothing anyone says can take that away.â
You blink, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. For a moment, the weight on your chest eases, and you feel seen. Not just as a dancer, but as someone whoâs been fighting for their place. âThank you,â you whisper, the sincerity in your tone matching his.
Hoseok smiles gently, his hand twitching like heâs considering reaching out but stops himself. âDonât thank me for telling the truth,â he says with a wink, his tone lightening. âBut if you need to talk, about this, about anything. Iâm here. You donât have to shoulder this alone.â
The warmth in his words stays with you as he steps back, giving you space. He gestures to the empty room with a small grin. âNow, letâs see what youâve been working on. Show me that fire theyâre so jealous of.â
The silence in the practice room becomes a melody of its own as you reset to the opening pose, your heart thundering as you meet Hoseokâs gaze in the mirror. You take a steadying breath and let the music in your head guide you. With each movement, you channel everythingâthe doubts, the whispers, the quiet anger, and the determination that keeps you moving forward. Youâve rehearsed this choreography countless times, but tonight, it feels different. Hoseokâs presence sharpens your focus, pushing you to dance not just for yourself but for the truth of your abilities.
As you finish, your chest heaving from the exertion, you finally look at him. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes tells you everything. He takes a step forward, clapping once, slow and deliberate. âThat,â he says, his voice low but filled with certainty, âis exactly why youâre here. No one can take that away from you.â
You donât trust yourself to respond, simply nodding as you gather your things. Hoseok doesnât say anything more, giving you a parting glance that lingers just long enough to leave you wondering.
The next rehearsal is nothing short of brutal. The room pulses with intensity as bodies move in perfect synchrony, sweat painting the floor beneath them. Each beat of the music is met with sharp, deliberate motion as the group drills the choreography again and again, the echo of sneakers and stomps filling the mirrored space. Youâre dancing like muscle memory has taken over, fluid, focused, determined, barely noticing the burning in your limbs anymore.Â
After a full run-through, the choreographer finally calls for a break. Everyone collapses to the floor or grabs their water bottles, panting and grateful. You grab a towel to dab the sweat from your neck, catching your breath when the lead choreographer suddenly steps forwards again.Â
âAlright, listen up,â he says, his voice slicing through the hum of low conversation. âJ-Hope choreographed a new section that will feature three pairs. Heâll be choosing who gets the spotlight tomorrow. Until then, youâll be working with assigned partners to learn the duet. Learn quickly and show me you want this.â
You sit up straighter as he begins pairing dancers. Thereâs a flicker of anxiety in your chest, this section is important. Itâs not just about technique anymore. Itâs about chemistry, presence, making people feel something.Â
Your name is called alongside Heeseungâs, and relief washes over you. Heâs one of the few who doesnât treat you like an outsider. Maybe itâs because heâs newer to the team too, or maybe itâs because he doesnât get involved in the drama. Either way, youâll take it.Â
The music shifts to something lower, grittier, slower. You both watch as the assistant choreographer demonstrates the duet. Itâs bold, sensual, and more intimate than anything youâve done with this group before. Hands sliding over waists, synchronized steps that pull the dancers close before sending them apart again, dramatic pauses that demand eye contact. Itâs not raunchy, itâs electric, and itâs meant to make the audience feel something.Â
You glance at Heeseung as the demo ends. He just raises his brows with a quiet smirk and says, âReady?â And just like that, you fall into step.Â
Heeseung matches your energy beat for beat. His movement is clean, sharp, but when the music calls for it, he melts into the flow like honey. His facial expressions are deadly. Confident, teasing, completely in sync with the mood. Rehearsing with him doesn't feel like work; itâs fun, even a little thrilling. For the first time in days, youâre reminded why you love this.Â
But not everyone is thriving. You notice Mina and her usual crew struggling to grasp the rhythm and comfort of the pairing. Some of the girls look visibly uncomfortable, hesitating at the close contact or fumbling through transitions. Thereâs a mean spirited satisfaction in watching the girls who usually whisper about you now floundering under pressure. Maybe itâs petty, but it feels like karma is right on time.Â
âYN and Heeseung, come to the front.â
You both step forward, brushing past someone who audibly sighs and rolls their eyes behind you. The choreographer ignores it, gesturing for you two to demonstrate.Â
âWatch them,â he says to the rest of the room. âThis is what Iâm looking for.â
The music kicks in and you lose yourself in it. You give every step your full attention, every beat your best expression, letting the tension and chemistry between you and Heeseung do the work. When the final pose hits and the music fades, the room is quiet before the choreographer claps once, satisfied, but only with you and Heeseung.
âAgain,â he says simply. And so you do it again. And again. Until you stop counting.
By the time rehearsal ends, your shirt is sticking to your back and your thighs ache with the effort of hours spent pushing yourself to the limit. Youâre grabbing your things when a familiar voice calls your name.Â
âHey!â Yunjin jogs up beside you, practically bouncing. âYou killed that duet. Like, seriouslyâif Hoseok doesnât pick you tomorrow heâs blind. That section is so good. I love it.â
You try to smile, but it doesnât quite reach your eyes.Â
Yunjin narrows hers. âOkay. Whatâs up? Youâre not freaking out about Mina again, are you?â
âIâm not freaking out,â you say quickly, but the look on her face tells you she doesnât buy it. You sigh. âI justâŚwe cannot mess up tomorrow. Hoseok is going to be extra critical. We have to be perfect.â
Yunjin giggles. âYou sound like youâre about to audition for the Olympics or something.â
âWe kind of are. The duet is a big deal.â
A mocking voice chimes in from behind you. âAs if he would pick you.â
You donât even need to turn around to know who it is. Mina.
Sheâs leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one hip cocked like she owns the hallway. Her perfectly arched eyebrow is raised, her lips curl into a smug little smirk. Thereâs no denying sheâs talented, probably one of the best dancers in the crew, but her jealousy has always poisoned her shine.Â
You turn to face her slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. âYou should focus on your own part before worrying about mine.â
Minaâs smile tightens, but she doesnât reply right away. Her gaze flicks to Yunjin and then back to you, eyes narrowed. âWeâll see who he picks tomorrow.â
She walks off without another word, her ponytail swinging like a warning behind her.Â
Yunjin scoffs beside you. âSheâs just mad you were asked to demonstrate. Again.â
âStill,â you murmur, staring down the hallway. âTomorrow is going to be a war.â
The next day, the rehearsal room buzzes with nervous energy before anyone even steps onto the floor. Thereâs an edge to every voice, a sense that something important is about to happen. You can feel it in your bones. Today matters.
Youâre already stretching in the corner when thet door swings open and Hoseok walks in, sunglasses perched on his nose, a cap pulled low, and that unmistakable aura trailing behind him like static electricity. The room seems to exhale all at once, tension morphing into something else. Anticipation, maybe. Respect. Heâs calm but focused, nodding a silent greeting to the choreographer and a few dancers he passes on the way in. Then his eyes sweep the room.Â
When they land on you, he gives a small smile, barely there, but enough to make your stomach flip for a second before you snap your attention back to your warm up. Heâs always been kind, professional, but tough. Hoseok doesnât hand out praise easily. You have to earn it.
âAlright team,â he says, clapping once, his voice sharper than the last time you heard it. âIâve seen the footage from yesterday. Some of it was promising. Some of itâŚneeds work.â
A few dancers shift uncomfortably. Mina stiffens beside you.
âWeâre going to run all the pair choreo. I want to see full energy, no holding back. Expressions. Intensity. Chemistry. Everything.â He pauses. âAt the end of rehearsal, Iâll be choosing three pairs to feature.â
Thereâs a murmur through the group, some excited, some anxious. Hoseok doesnât reveal the last part of the plan, but the stakes are already high. The chance to be in a featured pair for a section he choreographed? Thatâs already enough to make people push past their limits.Â
You and Heeseung watch from the sidelines as the first duets go up. Some are good, technically clean, and well rehearsed. Others lack a spark. Minaâs routine is sharp, but her partner feels like an afterthought. You can almost see her trying too hard to win instead of just dance.Â
Finally, your names are called.
You move into position with Heeseung, exchanging one quick glance before the music hits.
And then, itâs all instinct.Â
You both dive into the choreo like youâve done this hundreds of times, like you were made to move together. Thereâs tension, heat, and a boldness to every step. Your hands slide into places like muscle memory, your eyes lock when they need to, and your movements match so seamlessly it barely feels like performance, it feels like connection.Â
When the final beat hits and you hold the last pose, the silence in the room feels different.Â
Then Hoseok claps. Just once. Crisp and deliberate.Â
âThat,â Hoseok says, a smile creeping onto his face. âThatâs the energy I want.â
You pull back slightly, catching your breath as the music fades. Heeseung subtly bumps your shoulder with his, and you canât help the small smile that tugs at your lips.Â
âTake five,â Hoseok says. âThen weâll run it one last time with the final picks.â
You step off to the side, heart still pounding, when Yunjin beelines for you with wide eyes.Â
âHe clapped,â she hisses, gripping your arm like she might explode. âYou know what that means.â
You shrug like itâs no big deal, but youâre still buzzing. Hoseok never claps for the group unless something really hits. The look in his eyes when you're finishedâŚthere was something extra there. Something calculating.Â
Across the room, Mina stares daggers through your reflection, arms crossed so tightly it looks painful. You ignore her.
When the break ends, everyone regathers, tension thick in the air.
Hoseok stands at the front again. âIâve made my decisions,â he says. âThese three pairs will be featured in the sections.â
He starts calling namesâHeeseung and your name first.
Your stomach flips. You donât look at Mina, but you can practically feel the steam coming off her.Â
Hoseok finishes naming the other two pairs, then adds, âOne more thing.â
The room stills.
âThereâs another slot. Not a pair.â He pauses just long enough for everyone to start glancing around. âOne dancer does the duet with me.â
You blink.
A duet with Hoseok? A sharp, electric silence stretches through the room as he scans the group again, his expression unreadable.
âIâll decide after one final run through,â he says, stepping back. âSo if youâre holding backâŚnowâs your last chance.âÂ
The final run-through feels heavier, like everyone is pushing beyond their limits. The chosen pairs are locked in, but that solo duet spot is still up for grabs.
You give the routine everything. Every movement, every look, every shift of weight is intentional. You know Hoseok is watchingâreally watchingâand thereâs no room for mistakes. Heeseung matches your energy, and for a second, you forget about the stakes, about the competition. Itâs just you and the music, your body moving like it belongs in this moment.
When the last beat lands, you hold your final pose, breathless, feeling the weight of Hoseokâs stare.
Then, after a long pause, he exhales and nods.
âAlright.â His voice is calm, but the decision is final. âThe featured three pairs are set. And for the soloâŚâ
The tension is thick. You swear you hear someoneâs breath hitch.
ââŚYN.â
Your heart slams against your ribs.
Thereâs a ripple of reaction around you, some hushed murmurs, a sharp intake of breath. Mina stiffens, her arms crossing, jaw tight.
Hoseok continues, his voice steady. âItâs a shame to separate such a strong pair, but YN is the best pick for this.â His eyes flicker to Heeseung for a brief moment before returning to you. âYou have the control, the expression, and the versatility this role needs.â
You barely register Yunjinâs hand squeezing yours in excitement before Hoseok speaks again.
âHeeseung, youâll be with Yunjin.â
Yunjin lets out a tiny squeak, trying, and failing, to keep her composure. Heeseung just grins, giving her an encouraging nod.
Thatâs it. Thatâs the final lineup.
You and Hoseok in the front. Three pairs behind.
MinaâŚnowhere.
The realization sinks in across the room, and you donât miss the way her hands clench into fists at her sides, but she says nothing. Doesnât make a scene. Just lifts her chin slightly, as if daring anyone to pity her.
Hoseok claps his hands together. âThatâs it. Rehearsalâs over. Get some rest and we run full-out tomorrow.â
You exhale, the adrenaline still pulsing through you.
As the dancers begin filtering out, Yunjin throws an arm around your shoulder, practically bouncing. âAre you kidding me? With Hoseok? Front and center? Youâre about to be iconic.â
You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. âI canât believe it.â
She grins. âBelieve it. And be ready because if heâs dancing with you, heâs expecting perfection.â
You already know that. And for the first time, it doesnât feel terrifying.
The room empties out slowly, dancers murmuring their goodbyes as they head for the exit. You start to follow Yunjin, but before you can take another step, Hoseokâs voice calls out behind you.
âYN, stay for a minute.â Just beyond the doorway you see Yunjin pause. Hoseok notices and addresses her. âYunjin, Iâll make sure she gets home safely.â
You pause, turning back to face him. He stands in the center of the room, rolling his shoulders out, an easy confidence in his stance. Your heart kicks up slightly. You take a slow breath, stepping back onto the dance floor as the last of the others disappear down the hallway. The door swings shut, leaving just the two of you in the massive rehearsal space.
Hoseok tilts his head, studying you for a beat before speaking. âI wanted to run through a few things. Itâs important that weâre comfortable with each other before we start full rehearsals with this.â
You nod, shifting your weight slightly. It makes sense. Dance, especially a duet, is about trust.
âI know you can handle yourself,â Hoseok continues. âYouâre an amazing dancer. But I also know it can be intimidating dancing with someone like me.â
You open your mouth to protest, but he raises an eyebrow, and you know heâs right.
Itâs not that you doubt your skill. You wouldnât be here if you werenât good enough. But Hoseok is Hoseok. Years of experience, endless stage presence, and an almost supernatural ability to make every move feel effortless. Itâs impossible not to feel the weight of that.
Still, you refuse to let nerves show. âIâll be fine,â you say.
He grins. âGood. Then letâs start.â
You move into position. The choreography isnât foreign anymore, but the difference is immediateâthis isnât Heeseung. He is a few inches shorter than your previous partner and Hoseok moves with a fluidity and confidence that makes every step feel like second nature to him.
But when it comes time to place your hands on him, you hesitate. Itâs just for a fraction of a second, but he notices.
Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. âItâs okay. Pretend Iâm Heeseung.â
You blink.
âItâs the same thing,â he says easily. âSame hands, same pressure. No difference.â
No difference. Right. You swallow, nodding, and this time, when your hands find their place, you commit to it.
Hoseok hums approvingly. âBetter. Butââ He shifts, taking your wrists in his hands, adjusting them slightly. His grip is warm, firm but not forceful. âMore weight here. Less here. Feel the difference?â
You do. He guides you through it, step by step, his touch light but precise. The smallest corrections, pressure, angles, breath control and as you move, something shifts.
The hesitation melts away, replaced by something new. Tension. Not the bad kind. The kind that makes every movement electric, every glance charged. Hoseok notices it too, but he doesnât acknowledge it outright. He just meets your eyes for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away.
âGood,â he says simply. âThatâs enough for now.â
You exhale, feeling something unravel inside you.
For a while, neither of you says anything. You both just sit on the floor, catching your breath. The silence isnât awkward, itâs comfortable.
Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say, âI danced from when I was three until I was fifteen. I donât know how they got the idea I just started a few years ago. Dance was my whole life for most of my life.â
Hoseok turns his head slightly, listening.
âI had to stop because I tore my ACL.â You glance down at your knee, absently tracing a pattern on your leggings. âI recovered pretty fast, but when I tried to come back, my peers had already gotten too far ahead. I felt like I couldnât compete anymore.â
You donât look at him, but you can feel him watching you.Â
âSo I quit.â You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. âI didnât dance at all for years. Until about three years ago.â
Hoseok leans back on his hands. âWhat changed?â
Your lips curve slightly. âI saw a BTS dance practice.â His eyebrows lift in surprise. âI donât even remember which one it was,â you admit, shaking your head. âBut something about the way you guys moved made me want to move again. I started learning choreography for fun and before I knew itâŚI was back.â
A beat of silence passes before he speaks again.
âThatâs crazy,â he murmurs. Then softer, âIn a good way.â
You finally glance at him, and thereâs something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of something behind his eyes, like heâs processing more than heâs saying. And then he smiles, slow and knowing.Â
âWell,â he says, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand. âGuess that means this dance is a full-circle moment, huh?â
Your chest tightens just a little. You take his hand.
And as he pulls you up, you thinkâyeah. Maybe it is. Your hand is still warm from his as you gather your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You expect him to head out first, maybe give a casual âsee you tomorrow,â but instead, Hoseok lingers near the door, waiting for you.Â
âYou ready?â he asks.
You blink. âUhâŚyeah.â
âIâll walk you out.â
You give him a sideways glance. âYou donât have to do that.â
âI said I would,â he cuts in, gentle but firm. âTold Yunjin Iâd get you home safe.â
Youâre not sure if heâs doing it out of politeness or something else, but you nod anyway. âOkay.â
The night air is cool when you step outside the building, still warm from rehearsal. Hoseok walks beside you, his hood pulled up again, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He doesnât say much at first, and neither do you. Itâs a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind that settles in when something meaningful just happened.
You expect him to point you toward the train or call a staff car to take you home.
Instead, he falls into step beside you like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âYou donât have to walk me,â you say gently, glancing over.
He shrugs. âI know.â
You pause. âThen why are you?â
Hoseok doesnât answer right away. He keeps his gaze forward, but you catch the faintest lift of his lips. âI said Iâd make sure you got home safe, didnât I?â
You smile softly, heart fluttering. âYou didnât have to actually do that. People are gonna talk.â
âThey already do,â he says, voice light, teasing. âMight as well make it worth it.â
You laugh, and he grins at the sound.
As you walk, the sharp edges of the professional Hoseok, the perfectionist, the dance leader, the choreographer, start to fade away. Instead, something else emerges. Softer. Warmer. This is the version of him youâve only seen in clips. The one who makes dumb jokes on Run BTS, laughs with his whole chest, and gets way too into silly games.
âYou know,â he says, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, âyou looked like you were gonna pass out the first time I corrected your placement.â
âI was not,â you protest, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. âOkay, maybe a little. Youâre kind of a big deal.â
He laughs. âNah. Iâm just a guy who never stops dancing. Kind of annoying, actually.â
You shake your head. âYouâre really not.â
Thereâs a pause, and when you glance over, heâs watching you with that same unreadable look from the studio. Itâs not intense or overwhelming, itâs just steady. Thoughtful.
âI meant what I said earlier,â he tells you. âYouâre a good dancer and you feel the music. Thatâs rare.â
Your cheeks warm. âYouâre just saying that âcause I said you inspired me.â
âIâm saying it because itâs true,â he replies. âYouâve got something.â
You walk a few more paces in silence before his voice comes again, this time quieter. âAnd heyâŚI meant the other thing, too.â
You glance at him.
âIf somethingâs ever messing with your head, whatever it is, you can tell me.â He doesnât look at you when he says it. âYou donât have to hold it all in.â
The memory of that conversation in the empty studio flashes through your mind, the way his voice had softened when he told you he knew what it was like, the way he saw straight through you without prying. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat.
âIâll remember that,â you say quietly.
He nods like thatâs enough. You reach your building quicker than you thought. When you stop in front of the gate, you half expect him to wave you off and leave. Instead, Hoseok lingers.
âThis is me,â you say, turning to him.
He nods, taking a step back but not quite leaving. âGet some sleep. Tomorrowâs gonna be brutal.â
You smile. âLooking forward to it.â
He holds your gaze for a moment longer, then gives a small salute and turns to go. You donât move until he disappears around the corner.
Inside, the lights are on. Yunjin is waiting, perched on the edge of the couch, a snack bag in her lap and a look of pure, concentrated mischief on her face.
You donât even get your shoes off before she pounces.
âTell. Me. Everything.â
You blink, taking a step away from her. âIââ
She stands. âNope. Donât even try to play it cool. You stayed late with J-Hope. You walked home with J-Hope. And youâre blushing.â
âIâm not blushing,â you mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.
âYou so are,â she says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the couch. âSpill. Every little detail. Right now.â
And you do. Eventually.
But as you tell her the story, thereâs one part you leave out. A moment too small to explain, but impossible to forget:
The way Hoseok looked at you when he said, âYou can tell me anything.â
The studio is quiet now. Most of the dancers have filtered out, the buzz of todayâs rehearsal replaced with the faint hum of a speaker left on low volume. Youâre sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of you, rolling out your calves with a foam roller. The mirror reflects the tired set of your shoulders, your hair sticking to your neck, and the slightly dazed look in your eyes.
Youâre not sure when Hoseok came back in, but you hear the door click shut and the soft shuffle of his steps before he drops onto the floor beside you.
He doesnât say anything at first, just sits close enough that your arms could brush if you leaned a little to the side. Then he speaks and itâs quiet, but direct.
âYou good?â
You glance at him, blinking like you hadnât expected him to actually sit down.
âYeah,â you say quickly. Too quickly. âJust tired.â
Hoseok doesnât look convinced. His expression is steady, unreadable like it always is when heâs being careful with his words.
âYou danced like you were somewhere else today,â he says, not unkindly. âStill sharp, butâŚdistracted. Off. It wasnât physical, it was in your head.â
You press your lips together, pretending to focus on the roller beneath your thigh. âItâs nothing serious. Just someâŚcatty stuff.â
He tilts his head. âCatty like âsomeone wore the same shoes as me,â or catty like âpeople are being assholes behind your backâ?â
You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. âIt doesnât matter.â
Hoseok shifts his weight, leaning forward a little. His voice softens, but thereâs an edge of seriousness under it. âIt clearly does matter. If somethingâs going on thatâs affecting how you feel here, I need to know.â
You glance at him. His brows are drawn in concern, not in a nosy way, but in that quiet, careful way of someone whoâs watching more closely than he lets on.
You try to smile, but it feels tight. âItâs just some girls being salty. Nothing new.â
âWas it Mina?â
You pause. That alone tells him everything.
He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. âWhat did they say?â
You shake your head, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long sip to stall.
âHey,â Hoseok says, gentler now. âIâm not asking because I want drama. I just donât like the idea of you being put in a bad spot because of me.â
You blink. âYou?â
He meets your gaze, expression open. âIâve been around long enough to know what people say when they think attention isnât fair. Especially when it comes from someone like me. I shouldnât have pulled you aside yesterday without making it clear to the group why. It gave them room to assume things.â
Your chest tightens. âItâs not your fault.â
âBut theyâre whispering about you, arenât they?â
You look down. âYeah,â you admit softly. âThey said I mustâve begged for the rehearsal. Or offered something in return. That I donât deserve the spot.â
Thereâs a heavy silence. Hoseok doesn't respond right away.
When you glance up, his jaw is tight, eyes unreadable.
âI can talk to them,â he offers.
You shake your head instantly. âNo. Please donât. That would just make it worse. If they think I ran to you, theyâll hate me even more.â
He doesnât argue, but you can feel the tension in him.
âYou shouldn't have to deal with this,â he says finally, quieter than before. âNone of this is your fault. You work hard. You earned your spot. And anyone who canât see that, who chooses not to see it, doesnât deserve to be taken seriously.â
You nod, barely. He watches you for a moment longer, then shifts slightly, bumping your knee with his.
âYou can tell me anything, you know.â
You look over at him.
âI mean it,â he says. âEven if weâre not close or whatever yet. If stuff like this keeps happening, please donât carry it alone.â
You nod again, this time more sincerely.
âThanks,â you say, voice barely above a whisper.
He gives you a small smile, then gets to his feet and holds out a hand.
âCâmon. Show me where you got stuck earlier. Letâs work through it before we call it.â
You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and before you can say anything, heâs already stepping back toward the center of the studio gesturing for you to follow.
âLetâs go from the beginning,â he says, sliding his foot across the floor into position. âJust our duet. No pressureâŚfeel it out.â
You nod and move into place, facing him, your heart still a little tight from the conversation, but lighter than before. The music kicks in low from the speaker, just loud enough to hear the rhythm, and you both fall into motion.
You mirror each other for a few counts before stepping into the partnered section, his hands catching yours, the turn, the lift, the slow lean-in that has your breath catching for a reason that has nothing to do with the choreography.
His eyes flick up to meet yours for just a second, the barest glint of mischief in them.
âYou sure youâre not mad at me?â he asks mid-spin, voice teasing as you land.
You blink, confused. âWhat?â
âYour grip is kind of intense,â he jokes, laughing softly.
You scoff and roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush all the same. âMaybe I am mad at you.â
âDamn. I knew it,â he says dramatically, tossing his head back in mock despair before resetting for the next movement. âGuess Iâll go cry in the corner. Alone. With my incredible sense of rhythm.â
You huff a laugh, the tightness in your chest easing just a bit more.
The next run-through goes smoother. Your timing aligns perfectly, and the tension thatâs been coiled in your body all morning starts to melt away. Between counts, Hoseok slips into goofy-mode. Heâs pulling exaggerated faces during transitions, pretending to wobble like a baby deer when you jump, and fake-swooning when you land a tricky turn.
âYou trying to show me up?â he asks between breaths, hands on his hips. âI thought this was a partnership.â
You smirk. âSounds like someoneâs feeling threatened.â
He gasps. âOkay. Wow. Iâm being disrespected in my own studio.â
You giggle, covering your mouth. âYou started it.â
âMe?â He points to himself with wide eyes. âIâm innocent.â
âYouâre literally never innocent.â
He shrugs, unbothered. âYeah, but Iâm cute.â
You hesitate just long enough for him to notice, your brain scrambling to process whether that was flirting or justâŚHoseok being Hoseok.
He grins like he knows exactly what heâs doing and spins toward the mirror, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair in exaggerated slow-motion. âOkay. Again from the top,â he declares dramatically. âThis time with ten percent more flirtation and twenty percent more sass.â
You snort. âIs that the official note?â
âYes. Iâm very professional.â
He catches your eye in the mirror, and you smile without meaning to. He returns it, softer this time, a little more real.
âSeriously,â he says, tone dropping just a bit, âyou good now?â
You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. âYeah. I think I am.â
Hoseok just nods, like he expected nothing less, and lifts a hand toward the speaker. âThen letâs dance.â
And this time, when the music starts again, you really let yourself move.
The music flows around you, the rhythm pulling you back into your body as you and Hoseok move together again. Everything sharpens, the way your hands connect, the heat of exertion building under your skin, the way he smiles when you hit the counts just right.
Youâre in the final eight, the part where your bodies come closeâclose enough that your breath catches and you almost forget youâre supposed to keep moving. Hoseokâs palm slides to the small of your back, guiding you through the turn. His voice is low but playful.
âSee?â he says. âTold you weâd get it.â
You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift. âYouâre not always right, you know.â
âI am when it comes to this,â he grins. âAnd also when it comes toââ
The studio door creaks open with a soft click.
You both freeze.
Heâs still close. His hand is still on your waist. Your breath still feels just a little too loud in your throat.
Sana stands in the doorway, blinking like she didnât expect to see anyone. Her brows lift a fraction as she takes in the scene, your closeness, the music, the fact that youâre both very clearly in the middle of something.
âOh,â she says, smiling a little too wide. âDidnât realize there was still rehearsal going on.â
You step back immediately, your body going stiff as you reach for your water bottle, suddenly hyper-aware of how this must look.
Hoseok clears his throat, casual but a little clipped. âPrivate practice,â he says evenly. âWeâre running duet sections.â
Sanaâs eyes flick between you two. âRight. Of course.â Her tone is perfectly polite, but thereâs something just beneath it. You know sheâll twist this. She doesnât need evidence, just the image.
She lingers a second longer before turning toward the lockers. âDonât mind me,â she calls over her shoulder. âJust grabbing my sweatshirt.â
You glance at Hoseok, but heâs already looking at you.
âIgnore her,â he says under his breath. âThis is our time. Let her talk if she wants.â
But your chest has already tightened again.
You nod, trying to keep the knot in your stomach from growing. âLetâs just finish the run.â
He hesitates, eyes scanning your face, then gives a soft, reassuring smile. âOkay. From the top. Letâs kill it.â
The music starts again, but itâs harder now to ignore the whispers that you know are coming.
The studio is already humming with quiet chatter and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor when you walk in the next morning. Your duffel hangs heavy on your shoulder, but not as heavy as the pit in your stomach. The last rehearsal before tour. The final run of the full program. It should feel exciting.
Instead, the energy feelsâŚoff.
Youâre barely a few steps inside when you catch it. Low whispers, the kind that stop just as quickly as they start. You glance toward the mirrors, where Sana and Mina are stretching with two other girls. One of them, Momo, smirks and leans in closer to Mina, whoâs pretending to focus on her split stretch.
âMustâve been a late night,â Mina says under her breath, not looking at you.
Sana hums thoughtfully. âMm. Guess some people need the extra help.â
The girls snicker, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. Yunjin, walking just behind you, hears it too. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, âI swear to god,â but you gently tug on her arm before she can say anything louder.
âNot worth it,â you murmur.
Yunjin shoots you a glare, protective and fiery. âThey think theyâre slick, but theyâre just sad.â
You give her a small smile, but the edge of it wavers.
You take your usual spot on the floor to begin warming up, trying to stay focused, but the tension in the room is palpable. Everyone knows this is a big day. The full run-through. All eyes will be on Hoseokâs final decisions who shines, who doesnât, and who might get more spotlight once the tour kicks off.
Your nerves were already frayed, but now the added scrutiny. The stares, the fake laughter, the whispered theories about why Hoseok chose you for the duet, it makes your stomach churn.
You stretch in silence, headphones in, trying to block them out. You know you earned your place. You know. But it doesnât stop the noise.
Hoseok walks in fifteen minutes later, ball cap low over his brow and a coffee in hand. The room shifts instantly. Everyone straightens, energy tightening like a wire pulled taut.
His eyes flick across the studio as he greets everyone with a quick, âMorning,â before his gaze lands briefly on you.
It lingers for just a second.
You donât smile. You donât react.
You canât. Not with every pair of eyes watching.
âAlright,â Hoseok claps his hands together. âLetâs run it top to bottom. No stops. Treat it like a real show. Find your focus and give me everything youâve got.â
People start moving to their places, but the whispers havenât stopped. If anything, theyâve just gone quieter slinking under the surface like snakes in tall grass.
You swallow hard and exhale through your nose. One more rehearsal. Then the tour begins, and maybe hopefully youâll finally be too busy proving yourself to hear them at all.
The first few shows in Seoul go off without a hitch. Every cue lands, every formation clicks, and the energy in the KSPO Dome is electric. Hoseok commands the stage like he was born on it, and somehow, being beside him under the lights feels more natural than nerve-wracking. You move in sync, you hit every mark, and the crowd responds with deafening cheers that echo in your chest long after you leave the stage.
But the online reaction? A different story.Â
Korean fans arenât exactly thrilled about the close choreography between you and Hoseok. Some accuse the creative team of pushing too hard for attention, as if this wasnât his idea. Others arenât shy about voicing their discomfort, dissecting every interaction between the two of you with brutal intensity.You donât let it get to you, youâve worked too hard to be shaken by faceless usernames and half baked speculation.
Brooklyn night one is just as electric. The crowd is louder, rowdier, and when you step off stage soaked in sweat, thereâs a fire in your blood that you donât want to put out.
Then comes night two and the day starts to unravel just a few hours before showtime.
Youâre in the dressing room, tying your hair back, when the stage manager walks in looking like sheâs carrying a live grenade. âWardrobe issue. One of the interns hung your outfits in the wrong place and they are ruined,â she says, holding up her phone. âCustoms seized the backup costumes when they came into the U.S. The shipment paperwork was flagged.â
You blink. âAll of them?â
âEverything. Yours, the duets, even the encore outfits.â
Your stomach sinks. âSoâŚwhat are we supposed to wear?â
She disappears behind a garment rack and pulls out a hanger. It holds a cropped jersey with the tour logo in silver glitter across the chest. On the back, it reads in huge block letters:
HOPEâS GIRL
You stare. âYouâve got to be joking.â
âThey were from a scrapped number. We have a full box of them in the truck. Theyâre clean, theyâre pressed, and they fit the aesthetic.â
You eye the jersey. Itâs cute. Actually, itâs really cute. But itâs also really cropped, your stomach will be fully on display. And the name on the back? Way too bold.
âIsnât this a littleâŚâ you gesture vaguely at the lettering. âMuch?â
âDo you want to fly to Newark and sweet talk the customs agents yourself?â the manager asks, half-joking, half-panicked. âBecause call timeâs in thirty.â
You donât have a choice. You change.
The jersey fits like it was made for you. Snug in all the right places, sleeves cuffed just above the elbow, hem hovering above your waist. You check yourself in the mirror, trying to ignore the lettering burning into your back.
When you step out, conversations stall. A few dancers glance over. One of the stylists lets out a low whistle. Then Hoseok turns, mid-discussion with a crew member, and his eyes land on you.
He freezes.
Then, slowly, he grins. Not the polite stage smile. The real one. The one that makes his eyes crinkle and your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the jersey. You glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of just how much skin youâre showing, and the text stretched across your shoulder blades.
Still, the moment passes. The music starts. The show goes on. But the mood sticks with you. A little unsettled, a little unsure. You look amazing. The crowd will scream. The performance will be flawless.
So why do you feel so weird inside?
The lights dim. The roar of the Barclays Center swells around you like a wave, and the opening VCR flickers to life on the screens above the stage. Youâre already in place, heart hammering in your chest, fingers twitching at your sides as you wait for the music to drop.
The crowd is louder tonight, maybe itâs the weekend energy, maybe itâs just New York. Maybe itâs the jersey.
Your jersey.
The one that reads HOPEâS GIRL in massive silver letters across your back.
You try to shake it off. Focus. Breathe. You know the routine inside and out, muscle memory will take over. But as the spotlight hits and the opening beats explode through the arena, you canât help the flare of heat that climbs your neck when you and Hoseok hit your first mark center stage.
Heâs already smirking when he looks at you.
You swear itâs a little cockier than usual.
The crowd loses it when he reaches for you during the duet section. His hand grazes your waist, right where the cropped jersey ends, and you hear the collective shriek ripple through the venue like a current. You don't falter, not even for a beat, but your pulse skitters. You wonder if he notices. (He does.)
The chemistry tonight is different. Tighter. Sharper. Every move is crisp, charged, laced with something just below the surface. Hoseok doesnât break character once, but thereâs something extra in the way he watches you, like heâs feeding off the crowdâs energy, and you're the spark.
At one point, he leans in for a choreographed momentâfaces close, breaths sharedâand you swear you catch him whispering, âTheyâre gonna riot.â
You almost laugh. Almost.
Instead, you snap into the next move, heart pounding, mind focused, eyes locked.
When the last beat hits and the lights go black, the arena erupts. Itâs deafening. Screams echo through your bones as the two of you jog offstage, breathless and slick with sweat. Youâre grinning, high on adrenaline, already tugging your in-ear out when Hoseok turns to you in the wings.
âYou crushed that,â he says, still breathless. âThat jerseyâŚâ He whistles, grinning. âMight have started a war.â
You roll your eyes, breath hitching on a laugh. âDonât even.â
But he just flashes that infuriating smile again. âHopeâs girl, huh?â
You shove his shoulder, but your cheeks burn, and even as the crew moves around you resetting for the next set, he lingers a second longer, eyes lingering like heâs memorizing you all over again.
The show ends in a blur of lights and music, the crowd's cheers still ringing in your ears as you make your way backstage. Your body aches from the intense performance, sweat dripping down your back as you strip off the jersey, feeling the cool air hit your skin. Youâre breathing hard, but thereâs a high buzzing through you, an energy that doesnât quite fade yet.
Yunjin is there in an instant, practically bouncing with excitement.
âOkay, first of all,â she starts, eyes wide, âwhat was that?! You were literally on fire tonight. You looked so hot, I almost couldnât concentrate! Like, how does that even happen?â
You laugh, wiping your face with a towel. âIt was just the jersey, Yunjin.â
âJust the jersey?â She places a hand over her heart dramatically. âYouâre telling me you donât know what you were doing out there? The way it clung to you, the way you moved, if I were in the crowd, Iâd be screaming my head off. Hoseok probably had to be holding himself back from jumping off stage just to catch you.â
You try not to grin, but the thought makes your chest tighten. âYouâre being ridiculous.â
âI am not. Babe, I donât even know how you stayed so calm. I was practically hyperventilating on the sidelines watching you. Youâre likeâŚa goddess.â
Before you can reply, the sound of footsteps clicks through the hallway, and you know who it is before you even turn around.
Mina and Sana.
âWell, well,â Sana says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, âlook whoâs enjoying the spotlight.â
Mina crosses her arms, eyes narrowing at the exposed skin of your stomach. âMust be nice. Wearing a jersey with âHopeâs Girlâ on it. Subtle.â
You donât respond immediately, but you feel the tension creeping up your spine. Yunjin, however, isnât having it.
âReally? Thatâs what youâre gonna focus on?â she shoots back, eyes flashing. âI think we all know the story behind the jersey, and itâs not like she went around asking for this attention.â
Sana smirks, a little too pleased with herself. âSure, itâs just a scraped costume item. But only one of us got assigned that particular one, didnât we?â
Minaâs gaze sharpens, her tone fake-sweet. âYeah, just be careful. You might get too comfortable being everyoneâs center of attention, those things donât last long.â
Her words sting, but you keep your face neutral. You want to tell them to mind their business, but you hold back, not wanting to make a scene.
Yunjin steps closer, her voice low and cutting. âYou guys are real classy, huh? Try not to be so obvious.â
Mina and Sana share a look before walking off, their footsteps echoing down the hall like a statement.
Yunjin exhales sharply, her fists clenched at her sides. âSeriously. Do they ever stop?â
You shrug, trying to shake it off. âLet them talk. They donât get to decide whatâs true.â
âYeah, but damn, itâs hard not to hear them when theyâre that loud,â Yunjin mutters, her eyes still on the retreating figures.
The next few stops of the U.S. leg flow like muscle memory. Rehearsals, shows, after-show hangouts in hotel rooms or wherever you can find food that late. Everyone slips into their own rhythms. Little cliques form, some loud and chaotic, some quieter and tired. You and Yunjin are the latter, always rooming together, always ending the night whispering half-asleep jokes under hotel comforters, letting the adrenaline of performance burn off slowly.
Hoseok is kind to everyone, but thereâs something a little softer in how he treats you. Even when heâs obviously exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a gravelly voice. He'll still toss you a grin in passing, a warm âgood work today,â or a brief shoulder squeeze as he walks by. Nothing intense. Nothing you canât explain away. But still, it lingers.
Mexico City feels different the moment the plane touches down.
The crowd is electric, louder than anything so far, and the setlist tonight gives the dancers a chance to shine, one particular number puts the girls front and center, a line of you holding onto each otherâs hips, all sweat-slick skin and sharp movement, hip thrusts and rhythm pulsing through the floor.
You barely even register it when Minaâs fingers dig into your waist. Not at first.
But then she digs. Sharp nails through the thin fabric of your costume, pressing so hard it feels like theyâre carving into you.
You flinch, barely, but your body keeps moving like itâs on autopilot. You smile, you hit every beat, you power through. Thereâs a camera somewhere. Fans screaming. You donât miss a step. But when you hit the wings, adrenaline drops all at once, and the pain settles in.
You rush toward the wardrobe first thing, heart thudding in your chest. âHey, do weâdo we have any backup options?â you ask, trying to keep your voice level. âLike...something with more coverage?â
Thankfully, they do now. You swap out the crop top and slip into something looser. The scratches burn, but at least theyâre not visible anymore.
You donât think anyone noticed.
Later, the green room is quiet. Most of the dancers have drifted out, some heading to the hotel, others grabbing food or showering off the performance high. You stay behind to grab a hoodie from the top shelf of the wardrobe racks, reaching up on your toes.
Heâs standing just inside the doorway, brow furrowed, eyes locked on your waist.
You look down.
Your shirt has ridden up just enough to show the angry red scratches along your skin, faint but clearly there. His expression shifts instantly, quiet concern turning sharp.
âWhat happened?â he asks, stepping closer.
You tug your shirt down quickly. âItâs nothing. Costume just rubbed me the wrong way.â
He gives you a look, one that says he doesnât buy it for a second.
âCan I see?â he asks gently, his voice low, eyes searching yours.
You hesitate, then nod once, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to show the marks along your side.
His breath catches. âJesus,â he mutters, kneeling slightly to get a closer look. âThese are from nails.â
You lower your shirt again, already bracing.
âI have to tell management,â he says, voice calm but firm.
âNo.â You shake your head. âHoseok, please. You canât.â
His jaw clenches. âShe drew blood. You donât do that by accident.â
âI know,â you say quietly. âBut if you report her, sheâll know it came from me. She already hates me enough.â
âI donât care if she hates you. She crossed a line.â
You look down, fists tightening at your sides. âAnd if she gets reprimanded? Cut? Then every girl on this tour is going to think Iâm trying to get people fired just because Iâm close to you.â
âYouâre not close to me,â he says without thinking, then winces. âI meanânot like that. I just mean, you didnât do anything wrong.â
âExactly,â you say. âSo donât make it worse.â
Thereâs a long pause. His gaze softens a little, but the tensionâs still there, tight in his shoulders.
âI wonât go to management,â he says finally. âBut only if you swear to tell me if she touches you again.â
You nod slowly. âOkay.â
âIâm serious.â
âI know.â
He exhales through his nose, clearly still not thrilled, but lets it go, for now. Then, a little softer, âYou didnât even flinch out there. No one wouldâve known.â
You offer a small shrug. âDidnât want to mess up the show.â
Something flashes behind his eyesâpride, maybe. Or something warmer. He doesnât say it out loud, but you can feel it settle between you.
âStill,â he says, voice barely above a whisper, âyou shouldnât have to bleed for a stage.â
Back at the hotel, itâs just past midnight. You and Yunjin are in your room, both freshly showered, your hair still damp as you sit cross-legged on your bed scrolling through messages. Sheâs across from you, stretched out on her stomach and picking at a protein bar with barely-contained boredom.
âGod, we should order fries or something,â she mumbles into her arms. âI know itâs late, but Iâm still wired.â
You laugh softly, about to answer then you stretch.
Your shirt lifts just enough to reveal a faint red line on your side.
Yunjin sits up like sheâs been electrocuted.
âWhat the hell is that?â Her voice is sharp, alarmed. She scrambles over the bed toward you, pushing your arm up before you can react. âWaitâis that a scratch? Thatâs blood.â
âItâs nothing,â you say quickly, trying to pull your shirt down again. âSeriously.â
She isnât having it. âDonât lie to me. Who did that?â
You go quiet.
âWho.â Her voice drops into a dangerous whisper.
You sigh. âIt happened during the performance. Mina. She dug her nails in during the line choreo.â
Yunjin is already off the bed.
âAbsolutely not.â Sheâs halfway to the door, hair wild, grabbing her hoodie off the chair. âIâm going to drag her. Iâll knock on her door and rip her fake lashes off one by oneââ
âYunjin!â You scramble up, grabbing her wrist before she reaches the handle. âPlease. Donât.â
âAre you serious right now? She injured you in the middle of a live performance!â
âI know. But if you storm down there, it just gives her what she wants. More drama. More fuel.â
Her jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle twitch. âShe wants you humiliated. Sheâs been whispering garbage since Seoul and now sheâs physically hurting you? And youâre the one worried about drama?â
You squeeze her wrist gently. âIâm tired. Youâre tired. JustâŚlet it go. For now.â
Yunjin glares at the door like sheâs imagining itâs Minaâs face, but finally, finally, she exhales sharply and slumps back against the wall.
âI swear,â she mutters, âif she so much as breathes in your direction wrong again, Iâm not stopping at lashes. Iâm coming for her extensions too.â
You smile faintly, despite the sting in your side. âNoted.â
She walks back to you and flops down beside you again, grumbling under her breath, âNext tour, weâre getting roommate requests and Iâm making sure weâre in a different hotel wing.â
You laugh. âYouâd miss me.â
âShut up and order the fries.â
You reach for your phone. The tension still lingers in the air, but itâs easier now, the weight of it softened by the person next to you whoâs always ready to go to war, no matter how small the battlefield.
The fries are gone, Yunjin is out cold, and the hotel room feels too warm, too cramped with everything that happened still buzzing in your head. You need to get out of here.Â
You slip on a hoodie, grab your keycard, and make your way up to the rooftop lounge. Itâs quiet at this hour, just past 2 a.m., and the Mexico City skyline stretches around you, lights glittering in the distance like stars fallen to earth. You sit down on one of the loungers, tucking your knees up to your chest, letting the night air cool your skin and settle your thoughts.
You donât expect anyone else to come up.
Which is why your heart jumps a little when the rooftop door creaks open.
Hoseok steps out, hoodie pulled low, hair damp like he just showered. He spots you immediately and pauses, his expression unreadable for a second before he walks over.
âI figured Iâd find you up here,â he says softly.
You give a small smile. âCouldnât sleep.â
âYeah,â he nods, settling into the lounger beside yours. âMe neither.â
Thereâs a brief silence, comfortable, somehow. Then he turns his head to look at you, eyes catching faint light from the city below.
âHowâs your side?â
You blink, still surprised that he seems to care. âItâs fine.â
âCan I see?â
You hesitate for half a second, then pull the hoodie up just enough to show the bandage, a thin sliver of red peeking out underneath.
His jaw tenses.
âShe really did that during the choreo?â He asks again, like he canât believe that it was true the first time you had this conversation.Â
You nod. âIt wasnât that deep. Just enough to be petty.â
He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. âYou didnât even flinch on stage.â
âCanât flinch when thereâs seventeen thousand people watching.â
He shakes his head. âYouâre tougher than most people I know.â
You snort, trying to brush it off. âI donât know about that.â
âI do,â he says. âYou donât complain. You just keep working.â
You glance over at him, a little startled by the quiet sincerity in his voice.
âYou notice that?â
He looks at you, the edges of his mouth quirking up. âI notice everything.â
You roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. âSmooth.â
âIâm not trying to be smooth,â he says, laughing now. âIf I was, Iâd say something like you danced so well tonight I almost missed my cue.â
You giggle despite yourself. âThatâs terrible.â
âRight? I knew it,â he grins, then leans back against the lounger, staring at the sky. âYou know, people ask me the same questions in interviews. Favorite food, dream collaborations, stuff like that. But no one ever asks the weird stuff.â
âWeird stuff like what?â
He hums, making his thinking face where he looks up. âLike the first time I ever forgot choreography on stage. Or the first time I realized I liked dancing more than rapping.â
âYou forgot choreo?â you ask, eyes wide.Â
He groans. âYes! 2016 we were in Osaka. I completely blanked. I played it off, but I wanted to die. I still think about it sometimes when Iâm in the shower.â
You laugh, and it feels easy, light in a way you havenât felt since this tour started.
âYou ever think about quitting?â you ask, quieter now.Â
âYeah,â he says. âTwice, but I didnât. I stayed. And thenâŚpeople like you came along. Reminded me why I loved this in the first place.â
Youâre stunned into silence for a beat, and he just smiles, leaning back again like he didnât just drop a weight into your chest.
The air shifts, warmer now. More charged.
You stay up there with him until the sky starts to tint pink at the edges, trading quiet stories and silly jokes and tiny truths youâre not sure either of you mean to share, but donât regret. Not even a little.
You and Hoseok sneak in your naps earlier in the day, quick, quiet moments of rest that leave you both looser and lighter. You havenât spoken since the night before, but when your eyes meet across the green room as everyone starts getting into costume, thereâs something wordless exchanged. A kind of mutual grounding.
When itâs time to run the show, everything clicks into place. Minaâs been shifted out of your proximity in all the formations. Sheâs still there, but now her energy canât touch you. You donât have to brace yourself. You can just dance, and you do.
The crowd is louder than night one. They are wild, alive, feeding you energy from the second you step out. Every cheer feels like itâs vibrating in your bones. Your body moves like itâs never known hesitation, hitting every count with precision and power. Every hair toss, every hip hit, every spin. Youâre on fire.
The numbers flow one into the next, and soon enough, youâre side-stage again, waiting for the duet. Everyone else clusters on the other side, but Hoseok finds you right where he did the night before. Youâre both smiling this time.
âBetter night?â he asks with a little raise of his brows, already knowing the answer.
âThe best,â you say, and you mean it.
He steps in close, just like yesterday, but thereâs no hesitation now, only warmth. His hands come to your face again, thumbs brushing the tops of your cheeks as he leans in until your foreheads touch.
âYou were glowing out there,â he says, voice low and playful. âLike, full-on radiant. Crowdâs obsessed.â
You laugh, heart hammering in your chest. âPretty sure theyâre obsessed with you.â
âNah,â he grins. âTonight, theyâre yours.â
It sends something giddy fluttering in your stomach. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. âLetâs go own this. Iâve got you.â
âIâve got you too,â you say, and youâre both smiling like youâre about to get away with something.
The cue hits. The lights flare, and then you're dancing together.
This time, everything is free and full. Hoseokâs energy wraps around you, not protective, not careful, just completely in sync. Hoseok dances with the kind of presence that makes people forget to blink. He still avoids the spot where your cut is healing, but it doesnât feel like heâs pulling back. It feels like he knows you. Like youâve built something real in all those hours of rehearsal, tension, and trust.
When the duet ends, the crowd goes wild, and as you hold the final pose beside him, Hoseok glances your way with that same dazzling smile. Only now, thereâs something a little different in his eyes. Pride. Mischief. Maybe even a spark of something more.
The post-show adrenaline lingers like glitter on skin. The performance high, the crowdâs roar, the perfect execution, itâs all still pulsing through your veins as you sit with the other dancers and crew at a lively restaurant tucked into a buzzing neighborhood just beyond the venue. The energyâs infectious. Laughter pours from every table, drinks clink, and someone orders another round before you can blink.
Hoseok shows up a little after the rest of you, wearing a baseball cap and a plain white tee, the kind of casual that still somehow makes heads turn. He slides into the seat beside Yunjin, across from you, and when your eyes meet over the rim of your glass, you canât help the quiet smile that rises.
He toasts you later with a simple, âTo killing it two nights in a row.â
Eventually, most of the dancers rally into a louder crowd, talking bar hopping, clubs, âjust one more,â and âweâre in Mexico, come on!â But you, comfortably buzzed and warm from the tequila and laughter, decide to head back. Yunjin stays behind, swept into the tide, and youâre happy for her.
Back at the hotel, you take your time. A long, hot shower. Moisturizer. Your favorite oversized tee and soft shorts. Then you pad barefoot down the hallway with a hotel-bar cocktail in hand and head for the rooftop lounge.
The air is cool but gentle, and the view stretches out like a glittering painting. You settle on a lounger, legs tucked under you, drink cradled in both hands as you sip slowly and let yourself feel everything. The ache in your muscles. The thrum of triumph. How far youâve come.
And thenâ
âThought I might find you up here.â
You look over your shoulder. Hoseok steps out onto the rooftop, holding a drink of his own, something dark and neat in a short glass.
Heâs changed, too. Into joggers and a hoodie, hair still a little damp from his own shower. He looks tired, but content. You wave him over.
He settles beside you on the same lounger, close but not crowded, and for a while, you just⌠talk. About nothing. About everything. About how wild this whole thing is: the tour, dancing, fans screaming your name.
And then a song starts playing through the rooftop speakers. Something upbeat and groovy, with a smooth, bouncing rhythm that makes your shoulders sway almost instinctively.
You glance at him.
âDance with me.â
He chuckles. âRight now?â
You stand, offer your hand. âItâs tradition now, isnât it?â
Hoseok hesitates for half a second before taking your hand and rising to his feet. âAlright, tradition.â
The two of you fall into rhythm easily, bare feet sliding over the rooftop tile. Itâs loose, playful. No choreography, no mirrors. Just movement. Just you and him. You laugh when he tries a silly body roll and laugh even harder when he copies your spin with exaggerated flair.
One song blends into the next, and somewhere along the way, it shifts. Youâre still laughing, still dancing, but the space between you shrinks. His hands linger longer. Your breath comes quicker.
Then he twirls you.
Your back presses gently to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist. He turns you again, catches your hand in his, and dips you.
Time stops. Youâre suspended in the moment, his arm strong around your back, your hand resting on his shoulder, and he looks at your lips.
Then, almost guiltily, his eyes flick away. Up, off to the side.
You look at his lips. Then back up at his eyes and you nod. Just once.
He kisses you.
One hand cradles the small of your back, holding you in place as the other comes to your jaw, tilting your chin up just right. The kiss is warm, slow, exploratory. His lips move like heâs learning the shape of you, like heâs been waiting for this longer than he realized. Your heart is slamming against your chest trying to understand what is going on. The kiss ends gently, like a breath, but the moment it does, Hoseok steps back like heâs just come to his senses.
âIâI shouldnât have done that,â he blurts, voice hushed and panicked. His hand flies up, fingers brushing his mouth like the kiss might still be there. âGod, Iâm so sorry. That wasâŚtotally unprofessional. Youâre my dancer. I wasnât thinking. I donât know what I was thinking.â
You blink, still half-drunk on the feeling of his lips against yours, your body still tingling from where he touched you.
âI meanââ he keeps going, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre just⌠youâre so pretty. Youâre funny, and smart, and youâve been killing it every single night and then tonight you looked at me like that and I justââ He breaks off with a frustrated groan. âShit. I let my feelings get ahead of me. I shouldnât haveâGod, Iâm sorry.â
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Your thoughts are moving like molasses. Youâre trying to process what just happened, what heâs saying, how this spiraled so fast from soft rooftop magic to this flurry of regret.
âI just donât want to make things weird for you,â Hoseok says, already backing away, voice rough with self-recrimination. âYouâve worked so hard to be here and this is your moment to prove yourself. I donât want to mess it up because I canât control myselfââ
âHoseokââ
But he keeps rambling, barely hearing you. âSeriously, just forget I did that, okay? Iâll keep everything professional from here on out. You donât need to worry about me, I swear.â
And before you can even figure out how you feel or how to respond, heâs turning to leave.
âHobiââ You yell desperately. âWait!â
He freezes. Youâve never called him that before. His favorite nickname hangs between you delicate and real. He turns just slightly, looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and searching. Now itâs your turn to be breathless.Â
You take a deep breath, gathering whatever courage you have left. The tension is thick, the air crackling between you both. You step closer, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying every ounce of confidence youâre trying to muster.
âIf theyâre going to whisper about me anyway,â you start, âmight as well make it true.â
Before he can react, you reach out, catching his wrist in your hand, turning him back toward you. His eyes flash with a mix of surprise and something deeper, but before he can say anything more, you lean in, kissing him again.
This time, he doesnât hesitate. He doesnât pull away. He melts into it, his lips soft against yours, his breath steadying as he lets the moment wash over him. You can feel the tension leave his body, how heâs relaxing into you, like heâs been holding it all in for far too long.
You tug on the excess fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressing against his. You feel the heat between you, the softness of his body as he leans in further, his hands moving to your back, tracing the curve of your spine. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, the world outside disappearing as the music plays softly in the background.
For a moment, thereâs no tour, no pressure, no expectations. Just you and him, and everything feels right. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling in the air between you, Hoseokâs eyes are dark, lips parted as if heâs trying to catch his breath.
âYou sure about this?â he asks, his voice quiet but filled with the same uncertainty he had before.
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. âIf theyâre gonna talk anywayâŚmight as well give them something to really talk about.â
Hoseok chuckles, low and breathless, before pulling you in for another kiss. This time, itâs full of quiet promises, no words needed. The rest of the world can wait.
The morning after, sunlight creeps in through the curtains, warm and golden across your sheets, but it doesn't soften the twist in your chest. You wake up slower than usual, almost like youâre trying to delay facing reality. There's no knock at your door. No message. No sign that anything happened last night at all.
You see him in the hallway a little later, just outside the elevators. You werenât expecting it, so your smile catches you off guard before you can stop it. Heâs walking with a couple of stylists, laughing at something someone says. His eyes pass over you like youâre a stranger.
Not even a nod. It stings more than you'd like to admit.
Back in your room, Yunjin is packing up her things, humming softly to herself.
âYou sure you donât wanna come with us today?â she asks, glancing over her shoulder. âSan Antonioâs got good food and my college friendâs letting a few of us crash at their place.â
You give her a half-hearted smile and shake your head. âI think Iâll stay behind a little. Be a tourist for a day. Last chance and all.â
âYour loss,â she teases lightly, dragging her suitcase toward the door. âDonât forget sunscreen.â
She doesnât press further. She doesnât notice anything is wrong. No one does. Youâre still smiling. Still functioning.
JustâŚquieter.
You spend the day wandering through the city, letting the sun soak into your skin and the colors of Mexico City blur into a kaleidoscope. You try mezcal at a street-side bar, buy a handmade bracelet from a vendor who compliments your earrings, and stand still in front of a cathedral until the bells chime and make your chest ache.
Hoseok stares at his phone like it might answer all the questions for him.
It doesnât.
It just glows with the time. Too early for this kind of spiral, too late to sleep it off. He rubs a hand over his face and sighs, reaching for the only contact that might give him something useful.
He hits call. It rings three times before Jin answers, voice still thick with sleep.
âHyung,â Hoseok says before Jin can even get a proper greeting out. âI messed up.â
Jin groans. âHello to you too. What did you do?â
âI kissed her.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. âWhoâwait. Her her? YN?â
âYes.â Itâs almost as if Hoseok can hear is hyung silenting judging him.
âWell damn,â Jin says, a little more awake now. âThatâsâŚunexpected, and kind of bold. Howâd it go?â
âShe kissed me back. It wasnât likeâI donât know. I didnât plan it. It just happened and now I feel like Iâm losing my mind.â
âThat checks out,â Jin mutters. âYouâve had a crush on her for a while, havenât you?â
Hoseok winces. âIs it that obvious?â
âOnly to anyone with eyes.â
He groans again, collapsing back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. âI didnât think Iâd actually do anything about it.â
âAnd yet here we are.â
Thereâs a pause.
âI donât even have her number,â Hoseok admits, his voice small. âI thought about asking someone on staff, but that feelsâŚI donât know. Weird?â
Jin snorts. âYeah, kind of creepy. Don't do that.â
âI know.â
âWhy didnât you get her number last night?â
âI was distracted. I didnât thinkâthere was this moment, and it felt like everything in the world narrowed to just her, and then it was over.â
âWell,â Jin says, âitâs not over if you donât let it be.â
âI saw her in the hallway this morning. She smiled at me. I didnât smile back.â
Jin groans. âWhy do you do this to yourself?â
âI panicked!â Hoseok snaps. âI donât know what sheâs thinking, and I donât want her to regret it. Iâm her boss. I shouldâve neverââ
âYou already did,â Jin cuts in, firm now. âSo the whole âI shouldnât haveâ ship? Itâs sailed, capsized, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.â
âThanks for the imagery.â
Jin huffs a laugh. âLook, I get that this is complicated. But youâre allowed to feel things, Hobi. Youâre allowed to want something good. If youâre serious about herâreally seriousâthen donât let protocol be the reason you ruin it.â
Hoseok is quiet for a long time. He watches a crack of sunlight stretch across the floor of his hotel room and thinks about how your smile looked under stage lights. He thinks about how he made you feel like you werenât alone in it.
warnings: smut,drunk sex,unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it)
Hobi sat across from you, hoodie pulled up, hair messy, a huge smile plastered across his face. "You sound amazing, noona," he teased in that playful, flirty way he always did, even though you were younger than him.
You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Youâre just saying that 'cause you tryna get me drunk."
He flashed his signature dimples, holding up a half-empty bottle of soju. "Maybe I am."
You didnât know who suggested it first, but soon, shots were lined up along the mixing board. Every time one of you messed up a line? Shot. Every time Hobi started dancing randomly mid-recording? Shot. Every time you made each other laugh? Shot.
It got dangerous fast.
Your body felt warm and fuzzy, your words slurring just a little as you leaned heavily against the mic stand. Hobi stumbled toward you, giggling, nearly tripping over the cord.
"You're trouble," you mumbled, laughing.
"So are you," he whispered, voice suddenly dropping an octave.
There was a beat â a long, electric silence.
You could feel his gaze traveling over your body, lingering on the way your oversized hoodie slid up your thigh when you shifted. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and your stomach tightened.
Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer.
He didn't resist.
In a blur of heat and giggles, Hobi crashed his lips onto yours. His hands cupped your face at first, gentle, reverent â but the kiss deepened fast, his body pressing against you, firm and insistent. You moaned softly into his mouth, feeling the way his hips started to grind against you, the bulge in his sweats undeniable.
"You sure about this?" he breathed against your lips, forehead resting against yours.
You nodded, pulling him down with you onto the studio couch.
The session turned messy real quick.
Hobi kissed you hungrily, his hands exploring your body with a desperation you hadnât expected from someone usually so bright and shy. He tugged the hoodie over your head, leaving you in just your bralette and tiny shorts.
"Fuck," he groaned, eyes raking over you like he was seeing you for the first time. "You're so pretty, baby."
His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them. You could feel how hard he was already through the thin fabric of his pants. You rolled your hips up into him, seeking friction, whimpering when you felt his length press against your center.
âyouâre so fucking needy,â he teased, voice rough.
You grabbed his hand and slid it under your shorts, guiding his fingers to where you needed him most. He cursed under his breath when he felt how wet you were, tracing slow, teasing circles over your clit.
"Shit, Y/N... already so wet for me?"
You nodded frantically, nails digging into his shoulder. "Need you, Hobi... now."
He wasted no time. He shoved his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his thick cock, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. You shivered in anticipation, watching the way his muscles flexed under the dim studio lights.
He pushed your shorts aside, lining himself up, and then â with a slow, agonizing roll of his hips â he slid inside you.
You both moaned loudly at the stretch.
"Fuck, baby... so tight..." he growled, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, harder this time.
The couch creaked under your bodies as he set a brutal pace, one hand gripping your thigh to keep you open for him, the other pressed against your stomach as if he couldn't believe he was actually inside you. You clung to him, nails dragging down his back, making him hiss and thrust even deeper.
"Feels so good, Hobi," you gasped, head falling back.
He ducked down, sucking and biting along your neck, leaving bruises you knew you'd have to hide later. His name fell from your lips over and over like a prayer, your voice getting higher and breathier with each thrust.
"I want you to cum for me," he panted against your skin, his fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit.
It was too much â the alcohol, the heat, the way he filled you so perfectly.
You came with a cry, body trembling, walls clenching around him. Hobi cursed loudly, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you and let go, warmth flooding you.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the beat still looping in the background.
He collapsed on top of you, face buried in your neck, laughing breathlessly. "Best. Studio. Session. Ever."
You giggled, threading your fingers through his sweaty hair. "We definitely made a hit tonight."
"And maybe a scandal," he mumbled, making you laugh even harder.
But in that moment, wrapped up in each other on a sticky studio couch, you couldn't bring yourself to care.